


Rain

by howthemoonsuitsthenightsky



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 15:38:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6913099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howthemoonsuitsthenightsky/pseuds/howthemoonsuitsthenightsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's raining as they leave the airport, raining when one walks out and the other follows, raining when they finally feel at home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain

Footsteps echo off the shiny floor around me, not pausing as raincoats are pulled out of rucksacks and umbrellas worked out of handbags.  
I come to a halt as the red t-shirt in front of me does. My suitcase still juts out behind me and I quickly pull it in to avoid the annoyed glances and grunts I know I will receive if someone happens to walk into it.  
"It's raining." The voice in front of me states the obvious, though I chose not to take notice of it; over twenty four hours on the move has already put everyone on edge. "Fuck."  
"Fuck, indeed," I agree as I come to the realisation that we are definitely not wearing the appropriate clothes for the weather in front of us. I move to stand beside the red t-shirt owner, quickly glancing down at his knee-length shorts and then across at the other exposed, hairy legs and tanned arms of my fellow band mates.  
"Well, we're idiots," the third set of exposed arms and legs states as he watches the pattering of clear liquid against large windows.  
"Indeed," I say again, flinching slightly at the synchronised glares I gain.  
"We'll just have to deal with it," the red t-shirt says. "It can't be that far to the taxi."  
I will remember that statement for as long as it can be used against him. The cold air hits as soon as the final blast of heat from the whirring heaters suspended above the doors mixes with the rush of air from the impending car park. Despite the shelter from the rain that the outside canopy provides, the bitter air still manages to make me shiver, though I try to hide it, not wanting to make more of a fool of myself than the locals and experienced tourists already imagine of me.  
"The taxi's in section G," I hear called over the noise of water splashing against the pavement.  
"That sounds promising," the voice beside me mutters, his lips curling in slight frustration. His hair is matted from the lack of shampoo and I can begin to see faint grey circles forming under his eyes from a sleep deprived day, but I could still find myself staring for longer than I should.  
Unfortunately for him, I can't find anything reassuring, positive or flirty to say, so we continue on in silence.  
Section G is, indeed, unpromising. The signs at the end of the walkway inform us that section G is a ten minutes walk away, which I would be more than happy to undertake, if it were a warm, sunny afternoon, but on a cold, wet night, I can think of a million places I would rather be.  
The sign assumes ten minutes, but, thankfully, with our eagerness to be out of the damp, we reach it in less than five. Still, when we tumble into our taxi, I can feel droplets of water penetrating into my skin and my clothes look like they've just been through a two hour wash cycle.  
I find myself next to him, unintentionally. Our thighs are pressed together in between the two suitcases that wouldn't fit in the surprisingly small boot and it's almost as if there is electricity coursing between the contact. I don't know how he can't feel it, but whenever I look over he seems spaced out.  
Instead, I focus on the world outside, or, what parts of it are illuminated by the dim orange streetlights. It seems familiar, yet different and it's the small things I notice more than anything; the bins out for collection, signs with oddly spelt names and groups of scantily clad women lurking on corners. It reminds me of how far away home is and for a moment I wish I was back on the other side of the world.  
My thoughts are interrupted by a gentle weight coming to rest of my shoulder, a soft feeling brushing my neck. I look to my left only to find him, mouth slightly open, asleep.  
The sound of the heavy droplets continues on around me, but in that moment, I let myself smile.  
***  
The rain batters against the rooftop as I try for the final time to get the sequence of chords right. I know I should be able to do it and I know that if I can manage it, this song will be one step closer to perfection, but I can't move my fingers fast enough and once again it comes off as messy.  
Before I can take my anger out on the instrument, I place it carefully down on the sofa. I can feel his gaze from across the room, trying to figure out the right thing to say, always trying to make it better.  
"I'm done," I say to no one in particular. "Just, done."  
"We'll break for ten, yeah? I'm sure you can get it." I know he means well but those words are not the ones I want to hear right now and before I can stop myself, I snap.  
"No I can't, Luke," I retort, my voice rough in frustration. "I can't fucking get it. All I can fucking get is nasty comments and ignored and," I break off for a second due to the intense pattering outside, "and the sound of this fucking rain that won't leave me alone. I just, I'm gunna go."  
Without a final look in his direction, I stand forcefully and stride out of the door. Originally I had aimed to go to the bathroom to cool off, but the front door invites me toward it and soon I'm out in the downpour.  
I think I must have been out for at least an hour when he finds me, even though I daren't wander further than a few streets away, trying, and failing, to shelter from the worst of the pellets by standing under the overhang of an evergreen hedge.  
As the shape comes towards me, the rounded curve of an umbrella above it, I consider walking away, but after some time to think, and some time to get cold, I know that now is a good time for me to come back.  
"Hey," he says as he comes to a halt a few feet away, his lip ring darting in and out of his mouth.  
"Don't keep the umbrella all to yourself," I reply with a smile.  
Before he moves closer, I see his lips part in a smile to match my own. As soon as I'm under the plastic cover, I feel myself begin to warm up, though I know an afternoon in wrapped in blankets whilst lying against the radiator will be the only cure.  
"I was thinking," he remarks, "about what you were saying." He pauses and shifts so that we are facing each other rather than standing side by side. I can feel the warmth radiating off him and notice when I look over at him that I have to look up, just slightly. "You know, about how you can't get anything." I acknowledge it with a small nod of the head, not wanting to put any distance between us. "Well, you, uh, you've got me."  
I barely have time to notice the blush rising in his cheeks before he connects our lips. For a second, we are both paralysed, and then I close my eyes, letting my lips move against his. I can taste the chocolate brownie he swears he didn't have at lunch time and I can feel a small brush of stubble against my lower lip. This is everything I want, and more.  
I move my hand to his back just as he tries to move his to the back of my neck. A torrent of water hits us at full force, causing us to suddenly break apart. He quickly brings the umbrella back over our heads. "Sorry," he mumbles once we've recovered. "I guess I sort of forgot about that."  
I let out a chuckle. "Maybe. Though, with that kiss, at least, you're forgiven."  
***  
When I wake, I instantly notice the lack of heat beside me. I can feel the goose bumps rising on my side where my t-shirt has risen up and the duvet isn't pressed in tight. Still half-asleep, I reach down to pull the duvet up and then turn to my side where I reach out for the body beside me. When my hands grasp empty air, I open my eyes with a start.  
"Luke." My voice comes out as quiet and full of sleep. I quickly swallow and call out again, "Luke." With no reply to be heard, I decide that he must have just popped to the bathroom and close my eyes, willing sleep to welcome me back into its warm embrace.  
As I lie there, trying to fall asleep once again, I notice the minutes begin to pass. A low hum comes from my throat as I decide it would probably be best for me to go and look for him, torn between the man and the object I love.  
Pulling myself up takes more effort than it probably should and as I plant my feet upon the soft carpet, I glance at the bright red numbers on the alarm clock my mum insisted I bought when I wasn't picking up her calls at one in the afternoon; I wasn't going to tell her the actual reason, her assuming I like to lie in is definitely the safer option. It takes a second for my not-fully-conscious brain to realise that it's three in the morning, though, unsurprisingly given the amount of horror movies I watch, my mind doesn't immediately leap to the possibility of some axe murderer or poltergeist waiting for me in the large, dark house I know awaits me.  
Our bedroom door opens without a sound and I immediately notice the small reading lamp on downstairs as I look down over the glass-panelled balcony. It's been a long time since I've happened across one of his late night writing sessions, but then, it's been a while since we've been home, properly, for more than a few fleeting hours or overnight stops.  
I make my way down the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible. He sits with his back to me, back curved over, elbows on knees in the old armchair he insisted on shipping out here.  
I take a moment to appreciate him, another thing I haven't done in a while. His hair, a mixture of blond and brown, sticks up at odd angles, stubble works its way from his hairline to his chin and I can see the flex of his acute muscles as he clenches and unclenches his hands.  
He turns towards me, a slight look of surprise crossing his features before they relax into a smile. "Michael. I wondered who my secret admirer was, or, not so secret given the amount of noise you were making last night."  
I force down the blush rising in my cheeks. I don't remember when he became so confident and cocky, but it would be a lie if I said I don't like it. "Got anything good?" I ask instead to change the topic.  
He looks down at his cursive script on the page in front of him as I move closer, letting my footsteps fall a little heavier now. "Something," he says with a small nod. "Definitely something, though maybe not something to share."  
"Even with me?" I ask with a raised eyebrow as I perch on the arm of the blanket covered chair.  
He opens he mouth to reply, but is interrupted as a large clashing sound rumbles through the sky. "Finally," he exclaims, leaping up from his position on the chair, notebook and pencil falling to the floor, discarded, and running over to the sliding doors. He throws them open and only stops his rapid movements when his body is pressed up against the ledge.  
I follow him, my feet instantly noticing the change from the soft carpet to wooden decking. When I reach him, he's staring out at the city eagerly, like a child waiting for Santa on Christmas Eve. "What's going on?" I question.  
"You'll know in a second," he says, face quickly darting towards me before turning back.  
Suddenly a cold droplet hits me on the shoulder. I dart away from it, only to be hit by another. They start to land on me, thicker and faster, until I know no other feeling than the splattering of rain.  
He turns towards me. "You didn't go in?" He has to ask at quite a volume due to the loud splattering against the various garden furniture.  
I shrug. "You're out here," I say as my explanation and I know it's enough because I know his would be the same.  
He reaches out his hand, water running in rivulets between the hairs on his arm, and I take it, letting him pull me closer to the edge. "I was hoping you'd be out here with me, in the rain." He looks over at me, ignoring the droplets falling down his face. "I was remembering our first kiss and something just made me check the weather forecast and when I saw, I knew we should be out here in it."  
I lean forwards to stop his rambling, letting my lips brush against his. "We should be," I mumble against them, before our lips connect, the heat between them keeping me warm against the rain.


End file.
